Back to You
by HasFar2Go
Summary: Set during the film, here are a few little scenes to fill in some gaps. Ariadne/Cobb
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Back to You**

**Author: **strangelittleswirl

**Rating: T**

**Words: **1407

**Summary:** Set during the film. Two events that took place between scenes in the film, and a slightly different look at the end of the Fischer job. Part 1: She was alone, but not alone. The ghost of a woman she had never known was somewhere outside her door, possibly somewhere in her sheets, bearing witness to something it didn't want to see.

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**Disclaimer/A.N.: _Inception _belongs to the incredibly talented Chris Nolan and the people over at WB. I'm merely borrowing and in no way claiming ownership. **

**This was written some time ago, and it's been sitting in my writing notebook, forlorn and waiting to be loved properly. The 100th Ariadne/Cobb fic on , as pointed out by the lovely Miss SwampOphelia, seemed a proper choice. **

**Also: the only good thing about the number of coffee mugs on my desk right now is that I can totally prop my notebook up and type from the page, truefax.**

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"Ariadne," singsonged Claire into her champagne flute, "Do you see _that_?" The Welsh girl glanced at her classmate, who was too busy scribbling spirals on a napkin, her chin in her hand. Claire elbowed the petite American, causing the pen to jerk across the program, landing somewhere near the center of the spiral.

"Sorry...who are we ogling?"

"That delicious looking man in the tux, of course."

Ariadne cast a disparaging glance over at the girl. "You're going to have to be a little more specific. We're in the middle of a charity ball where the smallest accepted donation has a four zeroes after the number.

The other Architecture Honor Society Ambassador rolled her eyes and sighed, pettily. "_Suit_ yourself. I'm just going to stand here and try to mentally will that guy to turn around. I bet the front is just as nice as the back. _You_ can keep daydreaming, clearly that's getting you places."

Ariadne dropped the pen and exhaled heavily. "Fine. Who is the victim of your objectification, tonight?"

Three weeks ago, getting to go to the Preservation Society's Fundraiser Ball was something to look forward to. Now, it simply seemed a waste of time, time that could be spent dreaming, or working on a floor plan.

Or with Cobb.

The last though jolted her, and caused her to mentally chide herself. She had analyzed her feelings three days ago, sitting at her mother's kitchen table in Provence she and her mother picked at a vegetarian casserole.

He was acceptably older, clearly a devoted man (to his family), dangerous, protective...She'd found he had a lightening-fast sense of wit that appeared in precious instances where things where relaxed amongst the group. The shrewd realist in her decided that allowing him to be the subject of affection, of a crush, was the emotional equivalent of trying to run into a brick wall: she'd be the only one hurt in the end but it was safe for everyone else.

Lighthearted flirtation with Arthur had revealed that he was far too charming, far too sweet. In dreams, he protected her steadfastly, explaining concepts as they went, whereas Cobb, he _pushed_ her to be a better architect, explaining that the critique he gave her might save her jobs in the future (a future, she surmised, that did not include him). He'd stopped lamenting her ruined prospects of a legitimate future when she reminded him that it had been _her _choice to meet him in the warehouse, to dream with him, despite all of Professor Miles' warnings.

Claire huffed when the subject of her chanting did not obey and 'turn' as she kept commanding. The figure wandered over to Miles, and realization made Ariadne sit up in her chair.

She _knew_ those shoulders, knew that back. Had spent many a stolen glance tracing it; guiltily, she remembered sketching the abstract shape on the margin of paper. When the man started the action, Ariadne overlayed, in her mind the movement of his hands being put into his pockets, and the image and reality were perfectly in sync. Miles pointed at donation table where Ariadne and Claire sat. Cobb turned to face their direction.

"Sweet Lord," muttered Claire, causing Ariadne to wonder if she was any relation to Eames, what with her obvious appraisal of the human physique. It was, however, more verbose than Ariadne could be at the moment.

Cobb's blue eyes caught hers, and a slight smile spread on his clean-shaven face. In that gracefully easy way he carried himself, he ended up by the ballroom entrance. He waited an instant there, then entered. The architectural student understood his signal.

"That's that guy," sputtered Claire. "The one from your internship."

Ariadne rose from her chair, nodding. She made the action last a full fifteen seconds before excusing herself, saying she had to talk to him about something job related. She followed in his wake.

In the ballroom was a glitzy mix of humanitarians, school alumni, architects, historians...the Extractor was easily found in a corner, waiting for her.

"Ariadne," he acknowledged in a low murmur, his eyes never leaving the dance floor.

She leaned against the wall beside him, watching the people move about the room.

"I've spotted seven heads of Europe's top fifty architectural firms," he declared. "You really should use this as a networking opportunity."

"You really should realize that networking at this event won't help me in my chosen field." The rebuke was enough cause him to look at her.

There was a startled sort of comprehension on his face after a moment. "You look beautiful," he complimented, so genuinely that she blushed.

Her dress probably cost less than a single shoe on some of the women in the room; the red cocktail dress was deemed passable by Claire, since they hadn't planned on leaving the Ambassador's donation table.

"Thank you, she said, and then grinned. "I can suddenly see why Saito's company made such a charitable donation.. Please tell me that wasn't expense money for the job."

He shrugged. "Then I won't," he replied flippantly, but the sparkle of amusement left his eyes, replaced by something else that she _had_ to be reading incorrectly. "You really do look stunning tonight."

She laughed, nervously. "Well, I guess I should tell you my classmate is rather smitten with you. So I'm going to go face her haranguing, now..."

When he laughed it was only a soft chuckle, but it was a novelty to her and she loved the sound. "Then don't go back," he suggested, simply. "Dance with me."

"Ask me," she counter-demanded, feeling bold.

He moved them across the floor with shocking ease, despite their mismatched heights, although her heels helped slightly in that department. They chatted idly. The song ended. They continued to dance. At some point, she realized that the polite space they had been keeping disappeared, and that his hand had slipped to rest lower on her back; when his fingers moved across the skin there, it burned up her spine. Startled, she looked up at him, could see past his shoulder to her reflection in the mirror, could find no resemblance there to his wife.

"Cobb," she said, warningly. "I'm not-"

"-I know," he said seriously, and she knew he meant it.

Was she willing to be target practice, a stepping stone on his path to healing? Ariadne wanted him to move on, and a night with her, that might be a step in the right direction.

There were a few one-night trysts in her past, classmates that understood the mutual meaninglessness of the action enough that it didn't impact their academic relationship. She'd been careful about her heart, and their hearts. She was young, but she wasn't naive.

"I could use some fresh air," she hinted. Wordlessly, they walked back towards the side of the ballroom, and the doors that exited out into the garden. Their departure, hand in hand, went unseen by Miles or Claire.

They ended up back at her tiny apartment. He didn't have a condom, she had several in her bedside dresser. Those two facts and their implication kept Ariadne from sleeping after he dressed once more in the now rumpled suit. Despite sleeplessness, she ignored Claire's texts demanding an explanation, merely telling her she was fine and at her apartment.

Replaying what had happened in her bed, she understood that it had been his first real step in trying to move on.

She was alone, but not alone. The ghost of a woman she had never known was somewhere outside her door, possibly somewhere in her sheets, bearing witness to something it didn't want to see.

She didn't have the choice to love him. It wasn't an option.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Back to You**

**Author: **strangelittleswirl

**Rating: T**

**Words: **1129

**Summary:** Set during the film. Someday this would all be part of some conversation with her or someone else, but all of this would be past tense. She would be past tense. Ariadne tried to assure herself that her pain would be past tense.

**Disclaimer/A.N.: _Inception _belongs to the incredibly talented Chris Nolan and the people over at WB. I'm merely borrowing and in no way claiming ownership. **

**This was written some time ago, and it's been sitting in my writing notebook, forlorn and waiting to be loved properly. The 100th Ariadne/Cobb fic on , as pointed out by the lovely miss Swampophelia, seemed a proper choice.**

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The three months followed seemed to pass in a daze of constant activity. Her classes kept her busy, and her former downtime was now flooded with work for the job. She and Cobb never spoke about that night, so it was as if it never happened. Only Arthur seemed to sense something was wrong, but only after Mal killed Ariadne for the seventh time, malicious intent clearly visible on the projection's face.

"Why would Mal be targeting Ariadne?" asked Eames after the dream ended for the rest of the team.

Despite her earlier waking, Ariadne was still too winded to answer, having woken up gasping open mouth-full's of air. Mal had found them in Ariadne's prototype maze and grabbed the younger woman, dragging her off from the team who sought her out desperately. Even as she heard them shouting her name, Mal had forced her head under the water's surface in the fountain.

Arthur, hunched over Ariadne's chair, shook his head. "Just leave it be, Eames," he demanded, but the look he gave Ariadne before turning his gaze to rest on Cobb, who ignored the others, made her think that maybe he actually wanted an answer to the question.

Cobb spent more time under, alone, after that. And then Ariadne found him that night and slipped under, saw him sitting there with Mal. Being confronted by Mal in the hotel room, knowing that the rest of her team was, as always, not able to help her, caused fear to paralyze her.

After it was over, and Ariadne had scolded the damaged man for what he had done with his wife's memory - and they both knew without saying it that she was angered by the fact that his behavior was in total conflict with what he had said that night, months before.

And then Saito was entering with news of Fischer's death, and suddenly Ariadne was rushing back to her apartment to pack her things. Saito ordered a limo to pick her up in three hours to take her to the hotel by the airport, where she would wait.

Halfway packed, the knock at the door caused her to stalk, frazzled, to answer it. The complaint for the driver, already half-formed in her mouth, dissolved when she saw who it was standing, tensely, in the hallway.

"Cobb," she breathed, truly surprised by his appearance. "What-"

"You can't come with us," he said, but there wasn't any authority to the statement.

She crossed her arms and stared him down. "Then I take it you told Arthur about what we talked about?"

When he didn't answer, she opened the door wider and ushered him in.

"This is serious, Cobb. You want to let go but you're not actually following through. IF you don't give somebody some kind of warning, Mal is going to sabotage the whole thing. Returning to the States means returning to your life, and that _will_ inevitably lead to you moving on, in some way or another. They have to know because otherwise you will ruin your chances of seeing your family again. And if you're not going to tell them, then I'm still coming. "

He stared at her, openly. "How do you know me so well?" he asked while sitting down heavily on her couch.

Ariadne sat on her coffee table in front of him, her knees between his. She gave him a wry smile. "Both of my parents are shrinks with their own issues, so I guess-"

"No," he interrupted her intently. "How did you get in my head the way you did?" he whispered in such a haunted way it made her ache with desire to comfort him. "I need you and I don't..." he trailed off, as if at a loss for words.

"You don't want to?" she finished helpfully. Reality was that he was trying to return to his life. Someday this would all be part of some conversation with her or someone else, but all of this would be past tense. She would be past tense. Ariadne tried to assure herself that her pain would be past tense.

His fingers wrapped around hers in the open space between them, and he watched them, transfixed. "No, no. I need you, and I don't want to hurt you. You shouldn't be so kind, so understanding."

She hated to interrupt whatever was happening, but she had to. "Cobb – Dom," she started, gently, squeezing his hands. "We only have a few hours before my car shows up, and you're the one that said we have to avoid one another at the hotel."

He shook his head. "Saito called. Confirmed flights to Sydney tomorrow." His larger hand turned hers over so that her wrists were facing him. His fingers traced a path down her wrists, stroking the delicate flesh in a way that made her heart beat a little faster.

"Tonight," she murmured while closing her eyes, hating how it sounded so final, even to her. She already knew where this was all headed, and how she wanted it too much to stop it, as she should. One time was one thing, but this?

He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. "It doesn't have to be the last," he offered and when she opened her eeyes there was just too much blue.

She wanted to tell him not to promise things they both knew he would never carry through. She wanted him to _tell_ her that it wasn't the last time.

But she needed him, to feel him one last time at least, to hear that sight they both contributed to when he entered her, sliding, and pulling and friction, the taste of his mouth on hers. The warmth of his breath against her neck. The feel of his lips on her skin. The look in his eyes as he came – lustful, shocked, overpowered.

His soft mouth pressed itself to hers when she followed him only an instant later, as if he was trying to steal, take in her noise, her breath.

If she could remember these things, she'd be able to get by on dreams until she had come to terms with what had passed.

In the morning, they waited until the last moment to separate.

It didn't hurt to see Dom turn back for an instant when he reached the doorway of her apartment. And it didn't hurt to see the determined way he ostensibly was walking out of her reality, because the next time they saw one another it would be as strangers.

Ariadne told herself it didn't hurt, but she wondered if she was still too numb to really tell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: _Inception_ belongs to Nolan and Warner Brothers and loads of other people who are not me.

**Notes:** This is now going to be at least a four-part fic. Takes place during the film.

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He could stay here, he should stay here, he deserves it for everything that he has put the others through. He could never be the father James and Phillipa deserve, not after everything that he has put them through. He's fucked up. He's risked the lives of others. He's crossed every line he had drawn for himself.

These are Dominic Cobb's thoughts that occur to him as the ocean tosses his small boat around. The rickety boat is fashioned from what had been the dining room table. While Limbo is and can do many things, it does not seem to want to produce a boat for him. It has (Had? Will? Did? He's never sure.) taken him four days to build it. Four days of quiet and loneliness. How many times had he looked to his side, hoping to see the petite young woman?

From the roof of the building, Cobb had been able to just make out the shape of a shore, far off. When he and Mal had been in Limbo, they had tried to swim, as if by swimming they'd be able to get back up to the dream layer above. They'd stopped trying quickly.

So he'd set out in the boat –a piece of shit that would have never floated in reality—and here, days later, he wondered if he'd die in Limbo. The shores of his subconscious were one thing, but the ocean?

His lips are parched, and he could feel the stiffness of his weather-beaten face. Funny, he couldn't remember needing to eat or drink the last time. Maybe the water was different. Maybe he would stay here without even having to try. The boat goes over a little bit of another wave, and Dom's body is rocked gently with the movement, his head shifting slightly.

Eyes fluttering shut, he lets out a heavy sigh. In this moment of desperation, despite the fact that he knew he was at fault for the world he was currently in, he prayed. At least one more look at his children, he begs. And then unbidden, the crooked, lovely smile of his Architect appears before him. At least one more moment with her. He didn't deserve it, but he wants it.

Eyes still closed, he remembers her, takes comfort in the memory of her, her caring, warm eyes; the sound she made as she moved below him; her incredible mind. Ariadne had been the reason they had made it so far, the driving force as they had gone ahead, continued on with the job. She had wanted him to have his family back, his life. She had worked with a single-mindedness to help him, to ensure him his happiness.

"You're never going to reach his shore like this," says a voice above him. Even with his eyes closed, he knows who it is. Dom risks only one eye open. "Phillipa and James are waiting for you."

Ariadne's face and hair are blocking out the sun, sheltering him and for an instant, he can only sigh with some two-fold relief. She helps him to sit up, balancing the boat as he moves to sit across from her.

She's in the dress from the event, that red one, the same shade as the sweater she wears and the color of her lips. She's wearing her little jacket over it, and she's got those boots on, the pair she's always stomping around in. Ariadne gives him an easy smile and wrestles a strand of hair that the wind is tugging at, tucking it finally behind her ear. He's never seen her do that before. Not, in that manner.

"You're not real," he states.

"You needed me," she responds, without a shrug. "You needed incentive, and so you thought of me."

The wind that suddenly comes across the water is refreshing, and he feels more awake, alert at least. The boat, despite its lack of a sail, is now moving swiftly through the water. He can make out cliffs, and a building on them.

He's still tired, still weary, but his hopes are rekindled. Ariadne's projection squints, since she is looking in the direction of what might be something like a sun, and looks at him seriously. "You've taken the guilt that you associated with Mal and you using it against yourself. It will weigh you down, Dom, it will trap you here."

'Dom'?" he echoes. Even now, in this moment, she causes the corners of his mouth to rise. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. The ring is still there on his finger, but it's lighter, growing lighter. He looks to projection of Ariadne. "That's new."

"I'm everything you think she is, and what you want her to be," she says, and they both are kind enough to ignore whatever else the latter part of that sentence could mean (means. This is his projection, after all). Or so he thinks, because she reaches out and pushes hair out of his face.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, unable to tear his eyes away from hers even as her hand cups his face.

"What you want me to do, what you need," she murmurs. "I can't tell you with certainty how she'll react, Dom, but...you know she cares. And there's no way of knowing unless you get back to her."

"You know everything that I know, and yet-"

"You trust her, implicitly. It's the reason you told her all that you have, and risked returning to Limbo. Hearing it in her voice, even if she seems to have hints of your brevity, well, I guess you'll listen." Ariadne sits up, crosses her legs and leans back, jerks her head in the direction of the shore that they can easily see now. "I'd get out here, if I were you."

"That's a hell of a swim."

"Washing up on his shore will probably be less suspicious." She appears to be considering something for a moment. "Now would be an appropriate time to say 'goodbye', I guess."

He's tired, and so he gives in, addressing the projection as is she really were Ariadne. "I'm going to get back, I promise. I'll get back to you, and I promise when this is done...I..." he trails off when he sees the look on the projection's face. Shock and concern and love.

"Dom," she sighs, and leans forward to kiss him, and in his haste to kiss her back, he leans too far to one side and boat tips over. He's plunged into the water, and when he surfaces, there is no trace of the projection or the boat. He's more tired than he remembers being, but he pushes on towards the shore. He tires at one point, but he's close enough to the shore that he allows the tide to push him onto the sand.

A short time later, he wakes in the van and yanks at the oxygen mask and helps Saito take in a lungful of the precious air before they start towards the surface, it's Ariadne. Ariadne. Ariadne is who he is try to swim towards, with an immediacy that causes him to try to rise as quickly as possible. Ariadne and her eyes and care and oh, Ariadne. Ariadne.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Back To You **(4/4)

**Author: strangelittleswirl**

**Rating:** R

**Pairing**: Ariadne/Cobb

**Warnings: **Spoilers for the film, language, sex

**Words:** 2,554

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own _Inception_.

**Summary: **Set during the film, here are a few little scenes to fill in some gaps.

**Notes:** This chapter was actually the first one started, and it was inspired by the music video made to Coldplay's X&Y that has been, sadly, removed from youtube.

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The week they they have to wait in Yusuf's dream is a long, sleepless one that seems to drag on. After a few hours of waiting for Saito and Cobb, and no sign of them, they travel on to the hotel that had created to wait out in. Having gained Fischer's trust, the dream lacks the military subconscious present before. On the last day before time is up, Fischer stages a meeting with projections of press members. There is a party afterward, and Eames drags them along.

Arthur finds her on the balcony, away from the music and noise of the party. "You said it yourself," he reminds her. "He'll be fine."

Ariadne doesn't take her eyes off of the river a few blocks away, barely visible with the other buildings obscuring the view. "He's never really done this before, has he?"

"I can't say with complete certainty, but I think maybe...maybe once. You really won't talk about what happened down there?" he asks with a hint of sadness.

She can't help but laugh, a sharp one that leaves her feeling raw. "That would require an _understanding_ of what took place," she explains. Even if she did, she couldn't tell them, it was Cobb's secret, not hers.

The dark haired man watches her carefully. "He shouldn't have let you go with him," he declares, finally. "Mal may have attacked in the past, but never with the ferocity that she attacked you. I _know_ something happened down there, but if you don't talk about it..." he trails off, as if realizing even as he spoke that the young woman who stood before him wouldn't be opening up anytime soon.

When he had kissed her, she had thought of Cobb. Had realized even as he was kissing her that it would have been better to have fallen for him, in some ways. But it didn't work, it was no good. It wasn't even worth a shot.

He fixes her with a serious look. "Just promise me you won't try to jump off the balcony or something, alright?"

She smiles and gives him a reassuring nod, but reenters the party with him. "I think I'm going to go down to the water."

He ushers her in to the room before him. "At least bring an umbrella with you, alright? It's almost time for another storm."

Ariadne draws the stole around her with one hand and holds the closed umbrella with the other. The walk to the water is short, only a few blocks, and it appears the rain is still holding off. She takes a seat on the usual rock, and sees the beer bottles and cigarette stubs, notices there are more, and knows the the others have been down here as well. The dress she's wearing does nothing to block the wind that is picking up, but she plans to return to the hotel quickly.

Even alone, she doesn't let herself cry, firmly repeating to herself that however it ended, it would be painful, and it would be better just to wait, and to grieve her losses collective when everything is over. There will be no scars. There will be no one who knows about what she has accomplished in the past few months, the buildings that never existed but are real, so real to her. No one will know about the ghost she had killed or the fact that she loved the man who loved it. Ariadne isn't so sure she wants to continue working with the PASIV anymore. She'll sacrifice the speed of creation in dreams for the slow, steady process in reality.

The movement on the water, caused by the rain hitting it, catches her attention seconds before something breaks the surface. Her gaze focuses on the heads she now sees, visibly bobbing, the mouths gaping for air. The stole slips to the ground and she toes the heels off as she moves.

The water is teeth-chattering cold, but it makes to difference to Ariadne, who paddles to them as quickly as possible. Cobb makes eye contact with her, and there's something there, but he pushes Saito towards her.

"Help him to the shore," he coughs out. "I'll follow."

Reluctant but understanding Saito to be the worse swimmer, she guided him to the rocks.

"Are you okay?" she asks, noting that he seems to be perfectly sane, that his wound seems to have stopped bleeding.

"Just very cold and very tired," manages the breathless businessman. Ariadne turns around to see where Cobb is; he's slowly but steadily making his way to the embankment. Saito gestures for her to help the other man, and he slowly starts off in the direction of the hotel.

Dom has reached a point in the water where it reaches his chest, but she still moves towards him, meeting him where the river swirls hip-high. He's pulling her to him before she can catch her breath to say anything, her teeth chattering from wet and cold and the aftermath of adrenaline.

He grabs her face and there is a clumsy but mutual surge forward, and there is a forceful meeting of lips. She clutches at the back of the shirt that clings to him like a second skin, needing to feel him, needing his warmth, for reassurance. His lips glide from her mouth to her jaw, then to her cheek, chanting 'thank you, thank you' into her skin. It suddenly occurs to her that 'thank you' is actually being alternated with another phrase, and she holds on to him more tightly. Ariadne pulls his lips to hers so she can steal the words he's saying, take them into her mouth, combine them with her own and push them back out stronger and more confident.

"How much time to do we have left?" he asks, finally, when the desire for dry clothes and the comfort of a room takes precedence, and they help one another to the shore. He's leaning heavily on her as they pick their way over the rocks.

Through chattering teeth she replies, "Couple of hours."

They cross the street and enter the lobby. Evidence that Saito walked through the echoing lobby is on the ground in the form of wet footprints. Two more trails are added.

"There's a party going on upstairs," she mumbles as they step into the elevator. "They'll be glad to see you."

He only holds her more tightly, kissing her on the forehead. "Maybe later," he replies, and rubs her shaking shoulders. "The cold is probably from the air conditioner or the sedative wearing off. It's a good sign."

He follows her to the hotel she claimed as her own, and as soon as he walks in, he wrestles his overshirt off.

"Your clothes are with Arthur," she explains, her hand on the door. "I'll go get them."

He shakes his head, coming over to her and removing her hand from the door before drawing her with him towards the bathroom. "Not necessary. Come here."

In the bathroom, he twists the knobs and soon they bathroom mirror is fogging over. In the confined but blessedly heated space, Ariadne helps Dom peel his shirt off in between gentle kisses. He helps her out of her dress, the soaked fabric landing loudly on the floor, soon followed by his pants and their underclothes.

He helps her step into the shower, and she wraps her arms around his neck just as soon as he slides the shower door shut. It's the extent of affection before they both do perfunctory scrubbing. They towel dry and Ariadne reaches out of the stall to grab at the robes she'd created but never imagined using with Cobb in such a situation.

Dom sits on the edge of the bed and watches Ariadne wring out her hair, as if hypnotized. When she finally notices, she grins at him in the mirror. "What?" she asks.

"I'm trying to figure out how to ask you to stay with me in California when this is over in a way that sounds convincing, and it's much more difficult than I thought it would be." She swivels around to face him and his expression of defeat. "No way, huh?"

"I have to go back," she answers, softly. He nods, looking down at the bedspread, and she knows he might be regretting what he said earlier in the water. "I love you, but I just can't leave my things there, not when I was planning on transferring to Berkeley."

The seated man slowly brings his head up and the look in his eyes is too pure, too happy. She moves across the space to stand before him, leaning down to kiss him, sweetly. Desire blooms in her belly when he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips and her mouth opens. His large hands pull her closer, and she straddles his lap to close the distance between them.

"I can't offer you-"

But she cuts him off with a furious kiss. "Don't think you can convince me to leave you," she whispers. He groans when she grinds herself against his growing erection. "We'll make it work."

He twists them around so that way Ariadne lays sprawled across the bed. He runs a hand down the front of her robe, hovering at the knotted belt.

"As much I want to, everyone is at the party," she reminds them. "We could still get dressed and see them."

The robe is quickly opened, the knot released with deft hands. He descends upon her, kissing her, lips traversing places that should have borne scars but didn't, with a reverence that breaks her.

"Please," she says, whispering, whimpering.

Dom gets off of the bed to take his robe off, and stands before Ariadne naked, aroused. There is a moment where eyes take in one another, gazes so weighty they can be felt, and then she reaches out and pulls him into bed with her. They both work to free her of the robe, and then he holds himself over her, weight supported by one arm.

"I've never done this here," he admits into her neck, and Ariadne smiles back at him, softly.

"Me neither." That's fairly obvious.

"We shouldn't be, but..."

But they really, desperately need it, don't they?

Ariadne slides her legs around his hips, finds herself watching Dom's left-hand – bare, completely naked even here in the dream – slide along her leg, hitching it higher. The affection that he touches her with, that seems to leave its mark on every move they make, is love, love where in the past there had been lust, only need. He bends to kiss her as he enters her.

It feels like real life, when he is inside of her – it's the memory of the specific way that Dom fills her and she's fairly certain that it will always be distinct. The raw sense of sensation that sex within the dream allows for leaves her gasping, mouth open, a content, surprised 'oh' that she pushes a wispy breath through. No real world distractions. Just them.

When she squeezes, clamps around him, curls her body around his as if trying to take him into herself totally, he takes a shuddering breath.

He pulls entirely out, and then slowly thrusts as deeply as he can. The action, the concept of slow lovemaking, is entirely novel to Ariadne, and she's pushing up, drawing her blunt fingernails down his back, enjoying the hissing inhale of breath Dom takes when she does so.

His mouth is moving where it is on her shoulder. "Yours," he pushes out in a ragged gasp. "Yours."

Ariadne should know how much time is left; she's been marking it, doing the necessary calculations on a daily basis. But with Dom, in that bed, she loses time. She knows there's no threat of losing herself to the dream—not when she's his.

Her climax comes with little warning; she's been so close to it for so long that her hips buck suddenly, erratically, the feeling like an electric surge that races up her spine and she's sucking in breath so quickly it sounds like a shuddering sob, and then yes, yes she is coming apart around him, and wonders if it's the dream ending, if that's the reason for the stars she's seeing.

It's the way Dom says her name, primal, cherished, that brings her back, anchors her down beneath him in the bed, allows her to open her eyes and watch Dom's face during his orgasm. When he sags against her, and his head is heavy on her chest, she welcomes it. This is not some sloppy, one night stand.

She strokes his hair as she tries to catch her breath, feels him doing the same, feels the desire for sleep trying to pull her down. "Time is almost up," she says, looking down at the watch on his wrist.

Sleepily, Dom sits up, and pulls her to him. She kisses him and they lean against he headboard, watching out the window as the sun rises for the last time in the dream.

"I'm going to miss you," she admits earnestly, and he hums his agreement as he strokes her hair. Even with _this_, this massive change, she knows that they have to stick to the plan, to go their separate ways for at least a month. She'll be readily waiting for the all-clear text message from Arthur, now. "You need time with your family, though."

"And you need to finish and pack your bags and come back to me," he counters.

They watch a neighboring building start to break and explode, and know that it means they're time is almost up. She's been through all of this before but it doesn't stop her from closing her eyes and wincing, preparing for the pain. She doesn't expect him to reach down and kiss her even as their window shatters and for him to say those three words, oh those amazing three words.

Her eyes open and she's on the plane, and she knows that if she continues to sit upright in her seat she might make eye contact with Eames or Arthur or Yusuf and she's just not ready for that. Ariadne slumps in her seat and fishes in her pocket for her totem, just to make sure that this is real.

In the airport, she ends up in the line beside Dom, hears the officer welcome him back into the country, and risks giving him a small smile when he looks over at her.

It's that same airport that she flies back into a few months later, and in the same parking lot it's his arms that she runs to. And it's those arms that she will spend the rest of her life waking up in.


End file.
